Wise Beyond Her Years
by threeredcardinals
Summary: Answering a simple disturbance call had never been so complicated.
1. Chapter 1

"Dispatch to all available units, there has been a reported disturbance at McKinley's Toys downtown. Suspect is an armed Caucasian male, please proceed with caution."

Andy snuck a sideways glance at her TO, the dark-haired and cocky Sam Swarek. He gave her a mocking glare.

"What are you waiting for, McNally? A freakin' invitation? Light 'er up."

Andy released a melodramatic sigh. "Yessir." The sirens blared above them as Sam stepped even harder on the gas pedal. Andy glared at him as her body jerked forward in response to the acceleration.

"What?" he asked, still looking at her as he reached for the radio. "This is 1519, we're on our way."

The radio crackled to life again. "Over."

Sam placed the radio back in its cradle and sat back. "I'm serious, McNally. What is wrong with you? Every tiny little thing has set you on edge."

"Nuh-uh." She said, staring out the window.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I breathing to loudly?"

"You're a pain in the ass."

"Only the best."

She glared again, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her responding or laughing, seeing as though she wanted so badly to do both.

"Andy."

She shivered slightly as he said her name, at the way his voice deepened. She shook her head to clear it. What was she doing? As much as she tried to avoid him, Sam kept worming his way back inside the carefully constructed armor she had so painstakingly placed around her heart. She swore to herself she would never give any part of it away again, not after Luke. Andy couldn't bear the thought of having herself ripped apart like that again; the only thing she had learned from that relationship and its demise is that love never worked out. The only problem was, she had never given any part of herself to Sam—she had a feeling he had always had her.

"Earth to Andy."

"I'm here, Sam."

"I'm not too sure about that."

Andy sighed, finally looking over at him. His dark eyes bore into hers, as if he was trying to read her thoughts. Not putting it past him to be able to, she looked away.

"Shouldn't you be looking at the road? We're going 75 miles per hour here, Sam."

"I'm a city boy, McNally. How many times must I tell you that? I could drive around this place with my eyes closed." Still, he twisted back around, his eyes flicking to the rear-view mirror.

"Have you ever been to McKinley's?" Andy asked, only half-heartedly trying to direct the conversation away from herself.

Sam looked back at her, as if he knew exactly what she was doing, but didn't comment on it. "Yeah, once. I had to pick up a present for my niece."

"Sarah's daughter?"

"Yeah." Sam didn't talk much about his family, but when he did, it was mostly about his older sister, Sarah.

"That's nice. What did you get her?" Sam didn't bothering answering, because even in Andy's mind, it sounded stupid.

"Are you trying to make awkward small talk or something? Because it's working."

"No-"

"Good, because we're here." Before she had time to reply, he was out of the squad car and in front of the little toy store. Andy followed him out, taking care to slam the car door. The store looked like something out of a storybook, bright and colorful, big windows filled with displays. The only thing wrong was the way the door was crooked on its hinges and the screams that were coming from inside, mothers clutching their children as they ran outside.

"Well," Sam said, hand moving to his gun. "Let's go."

Barging through the torrent of people barreling out of the storefront, Andy followed Sam's broad shoulders as they forced their way inside. Once clear of the stream of people, Andy stopped.

"Shouldn't we make sure everyone's out?"

"Does it look like there's anyone else in here to you?" His words rang true. The last of the stragglers had seeped through the front doors, and silence inside seemed to echo. "I'll take the second floor, you clear this one." With that, he turned on his heel and darted up the thick spiral staircase leading upstairs.

Gun in hand, Andy crept down the aisles, past bins of stuffed animals of every variety, boxes of craft kits and board games. Once Andy thought she had found the suspect, only to realize she had nearly tackled a small toy helicopter that had been buzzing in circles suspended a few feet above the floor. Regathering her wits about her, she turned to go into the last aisle when she heard it.

A faint whimpering was emanating from the back corner of the store. Holding her gun in front of her, she rounded the corner. There, sitting in front of her next to a large display of Legos, was a little boy. His eyes were wide and frantic, panicking at the sight of her and her gun. Andy lowered it, stepping towards him. He could only be six or seven, way to young to be wandering around without his mother or father. And then she saw it: his hands had been tightly bound in front of him, the ropes cutting into his wrists. Looking closer, she saw a thick, clear tape had been placed over his little mouth. Abandoning all caution, she holstered her gun. Her first mistake.

Kneeling, she began to carefully undo the binding around his hands as she talked to him low and slow.

"Hi," Andy said rather breathlessly. "My name's Officer McNally. I'm going to help you out, alright?" The little boy's pupils were still dilated with fear. Andy didn't understand—shouldn't he be at least happy to have someone come help him? And then it hit her. Literally.

The butt of his gun slammed into the side of her head, sending stars spinning and sparkling in front of her eyes. Andy staggered, reeling and clutching her temple. She fell and did not get back up, blood roaring in her ears.

"Well well well, look at what we have here." A greasy voice distracted her momentarily from the pounding in her head. Squinting, Andy made out a tall man standing in front of her. He wore a green jacket over a dirty white shirt and a pair of mangled, ripped jeans. He was smiling at her, teeth missing. His hair stuck up in the back, stubble on his cheeks and chin. And he was pointing a gun at her chest.

"I'm. . .police." Andy mumbled, her brain taking much too long to thread the words together. "You. . .under. . .arrest."

The man laughed. "Oh, I don't think so, sweetheart." He produced from his pocket a length of rope and more tape. The boy, who had been silent up to this point, began to squeal like a piglet. Ignoring him, the man dropped to his knees in front of Andy and bound her hands and feet, taping her mouth shut. Unable to protest, Andy slumped backwards. The pounding in her head had retreated to a dull thud, and the spots she was seeing began to clear, but the pain still made it hard to think.

His job finished, the man stood and whipped out a cell phone and began tapping away, obviously texting. Andy couldn't help rolling her eyes. Was this guy for real? Finishing whatever message he was sending, the man tucked the phone back into his pocket and looked at Andy.

"Looks like it's just the three of us now, eh? You're partner won't be coming back around anytime soon, I have some. . .friends. . .upstairs. They'll keep him busy."

Andy squeezed her eyes shut, praying that Sam would be okay. Logic told her he would be fine, he could take care of himself. But what if he was outnumbered? He could only take on so many guys at one time. Not like there was anything she could do about it now.

"Though, however. . ." The man eyed her up and down. "Having you around complicates things, now doesn't it, Officer?" He squatted down in front of her. She shrank back, getting as far away as she could get away from his putrid breath. "Maybe. . ." He fondled his gun, playing with the safety. "Maybe only two of us will be leaving tonight. Don't you think so, Peter?" He turned his attention on the boy for the first time. The little boy, Peter, cowered, shaking. Andy felt anger bubbling up inside her. How could he stand there and terrify a little child like that? Did he have no conscience? Andy had seen many terrible, terrible things while doing her job—but the worst by far, for her, were the ones that involved kids. The way innocent children with their wide eyes were drug into these terrible situations made her tremble with fury. Those events would be forever etched into their minds, resurfacing during nightmares and horrifying flashbacks. It made her sick to her stomach.

Her mind, made clear by her anger, kicked into overdrive. Summoning her strength, she wrenched her legs from under her and swung them around, colliding with the back of the man's legs. He stumbled and smacked his head off of a shelf stacked with children's books. He grabbed it to steady himself, blood dripping from the place of impact. His eyes were glazed with hatred as he glared at Andy.

"You little-" Forgetting the rest of his words, he fumbled with his gun, aiming it at her head. He was literally spitting, his eyes darting from Peter to Andy, his tongue darting in and out of his mouth. With a spurt of prolonged thought, Andy realized he was literally insane. Licking his lips, he released the safety on the handgun. "Goodbye, Officer."

Andy squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that Peter wouldn't watch. This wasn't how she planned on dying, but sitting there, curled up on the cold tile floor, Andy waited for the shot. It never came.

"Well, hello there, sir. How are you today?" A high, smooth voice floated rather lazily through the atmosphere, thick with tension. Andy dared to open her eyes, only to see a girl standing there. She looked about 15 or 16, with wavy blonde hair and dark blue eyes. She was only a couple inches shy of six feet, putting her at a formidable size. She was smiling conversationally, as if she was only mildly interested in what was happening. Andy wanted to scream. Did she not see the boy or Andy? Or the gun in the crazy man's hand, his finger just moments away from the trigger? If she did, it didn't seem to bother her at all.

The man jumped at the sound of another voice, his gun swinging around to face her, then back to Andy.

"Could you do me a favor, sir?" The girl asked, her smile turning into a smirk that reminded Andy of Sam's trademark facial expression. Before the man could reply, the girl whipped out a gun. "Don't move."


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay yay yay yayyy! Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! More chapters on the way...I'm sorry this one is so short! I should have at least one more up by the end of the day, if not more! **

**Disclamier: I do not own Rookie Blue or any of the characters. **

The man froze, stock-still. Whatever he was expecting the girl might do, he surely had not thought pulling a gun on him was one of the things. The girl cocked her head and gave him a sickly sweet smile.

"Allow me to introduce myself," she said. "My name is Theresa Brandson, and you have two options right now."

Andy had no idea what to think. Where had a teenage girl gotten a gun? How could she be so comfortable confronting a madman with two hostages? This whole time, that smile had never left her face, and her voice had stayed confident, and, well, almost cocky.

"Options?" The man asked, slightly dazed, his eyes locked on the end of her gun.

"Yes," Theresa said slowly, as if speaking to a very small child. "Options."

The man's eyes flickered, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his gun harder. Andy flinched. Please don't go off, please don't go off, please-

"James Bradley, I would greatly appreciate if you put the gun down." Theresa's voice was rock hard, unyielding.

The man looked up. "How do you know my name?"

"I work for the Toronto Police Department." Theresa flicked her hips with the grace of a dancer. The loose, floaty top she was wearing shifted upwards to reveal a glint of silver—a badge was hooked to the top of her jeans. Bradley's eyes latched onto the badge. "And like I said, you have two options. One, you can put the gun down and come with me. We can get you all sorted out, Mr. Bradley, and everything could be okay." Theresa's voice was calm and even, and Andy realized she must know something about Bradley's mind instability.

"Wh-what's the other option?" Bradley's gaze shifted back to Theresa's gun.

"You could do something very bad, Mr. Bradley. You could hurt someone, and then I might have to hurt you, and you could be in a lot of trouble. But that doesn't have to happen."

Suddenly, Bradley's eyes flashed again. He looked Theresa full in the face. "You're wrong. You don't understand. I have to do this. It's the only way." Andy was terrified by his sudden change in demeanor, but Theresa didn't seem unnerved at all.

"Then, Mr. Bradley, we could have some issues. You shoot that gun, I will have you in jail for murder of a police officer, harassment, assault, and kidnap. You will have no life, no family, no friends. I don't think that's something you want, Bradley. I know this is one of your first jobs, but believe me when I say, this is _not _my first day, and I have no qualms about firing this gun." Theresa's voice had lost its calming quality.

"You—you wouldn't shoot me." Bradley's voice wavered.

"Yes, I would." Theresa replied evenly. Andy watched Bradley's arm twitch, and saw his finger reach for the trigger just before the shot blasted.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all so much for the reviews and subs! This chapter's a bit longer and answers a couple of questions. Hope you like it! (:**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own RB. **

Andy waited for the wave of pain to hit, but it never came. Instead, a small explosion had rocked the floor, and it took Andy a moment to realize what had happened. Lego pieces were shooting in every direction, ricocheting off the walls and her body. Theresa had shot the Lego display in an effort to distract and disarm Bradley—and it had worked. Lunging forward, Theresa dug her elbow into Bradley's stomach while she brought her knee into the back of his. He went down, hard, his gun clattering to the ground.

Theresa whipped a pair of handcuffs out of somewhere, and, straddling Bradley's back, efficiently cuffed him. He lay there, panting and winded. "Not so tough now, are we?" Bradley grunted in response, unable to shake her off. She whacked him in the back of the head and he obediently lay still.

Fishing a minuscule radio out of her pocket, Theresa spoke into it. "This is Brandson to base, requesting backup for the transport of James Bradley. Suspect is secured."

The small radio crackled. "Over." Theresa made as if to place the object back in her pocket, but hesitated, then held the radio back up.

"Officer Swarek's condition?" Andy stiffened, holding her breath. She had forgotten about Sam—how could she? She awaited the tinny reply with baited breath.

"He is stable; the paramedics are seeing him now." Andy let out her breath in a rushing sigh that did not go unnoticed by Theresa. Sam was okay. He was alive. Everything would be okay.

Standing, Theresa looked at Andy. "Do you mind if I get him first?" She asked, gesturing to Peter. Andy nodded furiously, hoping the little boy was alright. Theresa knelt in front of him, and, talking softly, removed the bloodstained ropes from his wrists. After she peeled the tape from his mouth, he flung his arms around her neck, clinging for dear life.

A small smile reached Theresa's mouth as she rubbed the little boy's back. "Shh, it's alright." Theresa then held Peter out at arm's length. "Can you stand over there for just a moment while I help Officer McNally?" The boy gave a tiny nod and shuffled backwards, Legos crunching under his feet as he went. Theresa knelt in front of Andy and carefully removed the tape and untied the ropes binding her wrists.

Andy took a deep breath through her mouth, rubbing her cheeks where the tape had been just moments before. "Thanks," she said, nodding to Theresa.

"No prob." Theresa straightened and helped Andy to her feet. "Ooh," she said, clasping Andy's hand in her own and inspecting her wrist. "That doesn't look so great, you should probably go get that checked out." Andy looked down at the purple ring encircling her arm and touched it lightly. "Careful," Theresa warned. "I wouldn't touch it if I were you, it's sensitive enough. We don't need blood gushing everywhere." She turned away from Andy and picked up Peter, holding him close to her side. "Shall we?" She gestured for Andy to take the lead.

Picking her way carefully through the Lego-strewn floor, Andy's mind was spinning. Images of Theresa aiming her gun at Bradley and an injured Sam laying on a bloodied floor filled her imagination. She was curious about Theresa—but the desire to see Sam, touch him, hear his reassuring voice, overwhelmed her. Hurrying to the front of the toy store, Andy shoved the door open and was immediately blinded by the bright sunlight that greeted her. She squinted, holding up her hand, but kept walking—and ran straight into Oliver Shaw.

"McNally!" Shaw said, but she cut him off.

"Sir, where's Sam?" Her eyes roamed the scene outside frantically—squad cars, officers everywhere, even a couple ambulances, all roped in with yellow caution tape. She scanned the faces, pairing them with names. . .but no Sam.

"He's over at the ambulance, but McNally, are you alright? You gave us quite a scare-"

Andy shoved past him and hurried to the nearest ambulance, going around to the back, and nearly running into one of the paramedics. "Excuse me, could you tell me where Sam Swarek is?"

The EMT was a young man with spiky brown hair, and he looked at her, wide-eyed. "Uhm-" Andy peered over the man's head, catching a glimpse of a navy blue police uniform and dark hair.

"Never mind, I see him." She pushed past, ignoring the man's attempt to restrain her.

"Please, Officer, he's still being treated, you can't go back there-"

"Sam!" Her TO's head swung around, and Andy stopped dead. "Sam. . ." She took a hesitant step forward, gently touching his face. "What the hell happened to you?" A gash ran from Sam's temple to the corner of his mouth.

Sam gave her a smile, twisted by the wound. "I had a disagreement with a couple of guys upstairs."

"Really? I couldn't tell. What happened?" She tried in vain not to be sarcastic.

"There were two guys—I tackled the one and managed to knock him out with his own gun, but not before he hit me. . ." He gestured to his face.

"What about the other one?" Andy asked.

Sam pointed to the other ambulance, where two paramedics were loading an occupied stretcher into the back. "I. . .I had to shoot him. He wouldn't put his gun down." Andy didn't miss the way his voice became heavier.

"Oh." They were silent for a moment.

"So, who saved your sorry ass?" He gave her a wicked grin as the EMT came back and began patching up his face.

Andy rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the adorableness of those dimples of his. "Talk about the unexpected—believe it or not, a teenage girl. She said her name was Theresa. . .since when has Toronto had a teenage girl working as a police officer?"

Sam didn't seem to hear her question. "Theresa? Brandson?" His face clouded over with an emotion Andy didn't recognize. "Are you sure?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

Sam just shook his head, glancing away. "Wait, is that her?"

Andy followed his gaze. "Uhm, yeah. That's her."

Sam ignored her again. "Hey, Theresa!" The tall girl turned and her face broke out into a large smile as she walked over.

"Hey, Sammy!" She cocked her head, taking in his newly bandaged face. "Ooh, looks like somebody did a number on you."

Sam grinned. "Sure did. How have you been?" To Andy's surprise, Sam pulled Theresa into a tight, one-armed hug.

"Staying alive, you know the drill. Speaking of which. . ." Theresa turned to Andy. "Did you get your arms checked out? They didn't look too great."

"No, I-" Andy was cut off by Sam grabbing her arm.

She bit her lip as his expression hardened, taking in the purple bruise. "Sam, I'm fine, honest-"

"Andy," he interrupted. "Why did you not tell me you got hurt? What the hell happened in there?" Not waiting for her to reply, Sam turned to EMT who had tended his cut. "Could you take a look at her wrists?" When she nodded, Sam resumed to alternately glaring from Andy to her arms. Andy glanced at Theresa, who mouth to her 'Sorry!'. Andy shook her head and shrugged. "Well?" Sam demanded. "What happened?"

Andy sighed as the EMT began wrapping her wrists with bandages. "I went to clear the aisles, but the guy snuck up on me and whacked him in the head with his gun. He tied me up and taped my mouth. Theresa saved me and the little boy, and now we're here. I'm _fine _Sam!"

Sam was staring at her disbelievingly. "He whacked you in the head? Tied you up?" He sighed, running and hand through his hair, making it stick up in the front. "At least he didn't hold you at gunpoint over anything. . ." Andy shifted uncomfortable while Theresa cleared her throat. Sam slammed his hand against the side of the ambulance, causing them both to jump.

"_Why _didn't you tell me? This is all my fault. . ." He trailed off, furious and resilient.

"How is it your fault?" Theresa spoke up for the first time.

"We split up." Sam muttered.

"You were both doing your job! You aren't psychic, Sam. You didn't know they were still in the building. Either way, you're both fine. Now knock it off." Theresa's voice had an sharp edge. "I'm going to check on Peter." With that, she stomped away.

"Peter?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, the little boy that was in there."

"Mm." Sam was glaring at something off in the distance and Andy sighed. He was in one of his Andy-did-something-stupid moods, and she would just have to wait it out.

The paramedic helping Andy finished, then looked at her. "Just be careful, and keep them wrapped. They'll be sore for a couple of days."

"Thanks." Andy said, watching her walk away. She looked tentatively at Sam. "Sam?"

"Hmm?" He tore his eyes off of whatever else was looking at and met hers.

"Who exactly is Theresa?"

Sam sighed and shifted. "She works for the Toronto police in Division 1. One of the first child officers they ever took on."

"How old is she?"

"Almost fifteen."

"Why is she an officer then? I don't know many parents that would let their teenage daughter go through training and then put their life in danger at such a young age."

"That's because she doesn't have any parents. She was orphaned at a young age. Look, Andy, if you want to know anything more, just ask her yourself." Sam hefted himself to his feet and started walking over to their squad car. "C'mon now, we have to get back to Fifteen. You have to give your statement."

Andy jogged after him. "One more thing. How do you know her?"

Sam paused and looked at her. "What?"

"How do you know her? Like, outside of work?"

"Who said I did?"

"Sam, you gave her a freaking hug. I don't see you cuddling with any of the other officers."

"I don't know." Sam said flatly, climbing into the driver's side of the car.

"I know you do." Andy insisted, clambering into the other side. "C'mon, Sam, just tell me."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"So are you admitting you do know her outside of work?"

Sam slammed his hand onto the dashboard. Andy jumped, startled, realizing she had probably pushed him too far. What she didn't expect was for him to start talking. "Fine, Andy. Fine. Yes, I did. When Theresa was younger and I was still living in St. Catherine's with Sarah, Sarah became Theresa's foster mom. She lived with us for three years, until Sarah became pregnant with her own child. I helped her get into the Academy to train. Satisfied?" Sam looked out the window, watching the blur of traffic.

Andy sat there, shocked at this revelation. A single thought popped into her head. "She was the 'niece' you bought a present for at McKinley's."

Sam glanced at her, his eyes darker than usual. "Yes."


	4. Chapter 4

**Again, thanks for all the great reviews! To tell you the truth, I really have no idea where I'm going with this, it's one of the stories that kinda writes itself. So we'll see! (:**

**Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own Rookie Blue.**

Andy sighed, looking out the window of the police cruiser. Sure, she had gotten Sam to talk—and she knew about Theresa—but at what cost? He was looking rather sullenly out of the window, and she knew the ride back to 15 would be filled with a resilient silence.

Andy's thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rapping on the glass next to her ear. She jumped, glancing up to see none other than Theresa herself. Andy rolled down the window.

"What's up?" Andy asked, looking up into the blonde's eyes. She watched them flicker to Sam's scowl and then back to herself.

"You mind if I catch a ride back to 15 with you guys? They need me to give a statement, and the other squads are full—they wanted to separate the two guys, and I really don't feel like sitting in the back with one of them."

"Sure," Andy said, glancing half-heartedly at Sam, who gave her a loose shrug. "Do you want to ride up front? I can get in the back."

"Nah, I'm good. But thanks for offering." Theresa climbed into the back, settling herself against the leather. Sam pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, ignoring both Andy and Theresa. Andy felt Theresa tap her on the shoulder through the grate and turned around. 'Is he always like this?' Theresa mouthed. Andy nodded, and Theresa sighed and rolled her eyes.

"I'm loving your cheerful disposition, Sammy. Good to see you haven't changed one bit." Theresa said sarcastically. Sam grunted in response. "You know, you're really gonna get the ladies that way—everybody just _loves _a grouchy old man."

Andy grinned and Theresa winked. Sam grumbled something, and Andy just barely made out the words, ". . .not old. . ." After that, they quieted down, the rest of ride silent and uneventful, until Andy heard the rustling of fabric coming from the backseat. Peering through the bars, Andy saw Theresa struggling to take off what appeared to be a bulletproof vest from underneath her shirt.

Theresa saw Andy looking and sighed. "I _hate _this stupid vest. . .it's just so bulky and. . .and. . .ugh!" She wrenched the Velcro on the shoulder strap apart and managed to wiggle out of it.

"You won't be hating it after you've been shot." Andy advised.

"Oh, I have been," Theresa said. "Three times. Twice in the vest, and the other. . .well, that one was kinda nasty. . ." Sam surprised them both by nodding and grunting in agreement.

Andy glanced at him, then back at Theresa. "What happened?"

"It was my first time ever. . .I was wearing the vest, but the bullet went underneath my arm, through the gap. It went through my rib cage, taking a rib with it, tore my lung and nicked a main artery. I was in hospital for a week before I was cleared. All those nurses raving madly about bullets and child officers. . .you'd think someone suggested they take away the coffee machines."

Andy laughed. "Well, I'm glad you're alright. Sounds pretty bad."

"It was." Sam spoke up, his eyes never leaving the road. "Sarah and I were both sure she was going to die. . .and then we walked into her room, and she's sitting there with this silly little smile on her face, asking if the guy got away." He shook his head. "She was only twelve."

"He didn't!" Theresa said triumphantly.

Sam sighed. "Yeah, he didn't. You gave him a nice little memento to remember you by, too."

Theresa looked confused. "You never told me that."

Sam nodded. "I know. Sarah didn't want me too—but the bullet you shot took out a chunk of his cheek. And transplants are expensive, so. . ." Sam glanced at Theresa in the rear view mirror. "He won't be forgetting you anytime soon."

Theresa was beaming. "I wonder why Sarah didn't want me to know."

Sam shrugged. "Something about me encouraging violence." He smiled. "She seemed to think I'd praise you for it."

"What? You? Pat me on the back for hurting someone? Never, Sam. Neh-ver." Theresa was grinning from ear to ear now.

Sam laughed. "You remember when you slapped that boy when you were in fifth grade?"

"How could I forget? He was picking on my friend, so I cracked him a good one. You thought it was hysterical! I was proud, too—until I got home, I thought Sarah was going to kill me."

"She almost did!"

"You stopped her."

"Ha, you mean I tried—she was furious, Tee. Completely banging off the walls after your principal called." For the past five minutes, Andy had just sat and listened to them talking—marveling at the way Theresa had gotten Sam out of his little mood and the way he threw out what obviously was a personal, adoring nickname as if they still lived under the same roof, joking around and reminiscing. It lasted until they reached 15, the garage door closing over the cruiser rolled in.

"Well," Sam said as he put the car into park, opening the door. "Shall we?" Andy nodded and Theresa slipped out of the back seat. She noticed that any traces of Sam's mood were gone, and he seemed his usual self. Andy knew, though, that it would only be a matter of time before he was pissed at her again, but she decided to enjoy it while it lasted. She loved seeing this side of him—almost as much as she was growing to love all of his other 'sides'. Shaking her head slightly, Andy followed Sam and Theresa through booking. Maybe this whole 'lone wolf' thing was gonna be harder than she thought.


	5. Chapter 5

**Short chapter! Please review!**

The Division was positively bustling as Andy, Sam, and Theresa walked in. Phones were ringing off their hooks and officers were scrambling around like madmen, papers flying everywhere and faces flushed.

"What's going on?" Andy asked, looking around in amazement.

"I'll bet you at least half the calls coming in are from my Division—we've been tailing Bradley for months, and now we've finally got him." Theresa said. Sam nodded.

"Why have you been following him?" Andy asked.

"He's been accused of kidnap, assault, and murder, all of little kids. It took us longer than we thought to actually get a decent hold on him—he may be mentally unstable, but he knows what he's doing."

Andy winced. "Any idea what kind of condition he has?"

Theresa shook her head. "Some sort of schizophrenia, but that's it. We'll have him diagnosed while we've got him."

Andy opened her mouth to say more, but another voice cut across the crowded room.

"Is that Theresa? Outta my way!" Officer Noelle Williams barged through the sea of people, sending more papers flying. Noelle wrapped Theresa into a tight bear hug, then held her out at an arm's length. "Look how big and beautiful you are! Oh, goodness, child. It's been too long since I've seen you!" Noelle looked up, seeming to just notice Sam and Andy's presence. "Do you two mind if I steal her for a little bit?"

Sam nodded. "No, but she has to give her statement-"

Noelle ignored him. "Good! C'mon, girl, let's go." Grasping Theresa's arm firmly, she all but dragged her away. Looking over her shoulder at Sam, Theresa shrugged, stumbling after Noelle. Sam gave a grumbling sigh and Andy laughed.

"So I take it they were pretty close?"

Sam looked at Andy. "Yeah. After Sarah, Noelle was like the mother Theresa never had."

"How did they know each other?"

"After Theresa graduated from the Academy, she came to 15 to train. After she surpassed her rookie status, she was sent to Division 1 so HQ could keep an eye on her and use her when they needed her. She's an amazing undercover because let's face it, would you expect her to be a cop?" Andy shook her head. "Exactly. She's made more busts than every officer in this whole division put together." Sam turned and started walking towards booking.

"Even more than you?" Andy asked, teasing slightly.

Sam grimaced. "Yes, even though I'm not proud to admit it."

"So pretty much everyone here knows her?"

"Pretty much." Sam detoured around a clump of desks.

"Did she get along with everyone?"

"For the most part. She and Oliver got on pretty well, and Jerry." A grin made its way onto Sam's face, his bandage moving with his facial muscles. "But don't get me started on her and Boyd—they had to work together on a case on and it wasn't pretty."

"Why? What happened?" Andy asked eagerly.

"Let's just say that if you don't think you get along well with him, you have no idea how bad it is with her. If you put them alone in a room together, I'm not sure who would come out alive. Boyd may be a full-grown man and a detective to boot, but Theresa. . ." Sam shook his head. "If they have to work together on this case too, it'll get ugly. Just wait." Sam stopped walking and Andy nearly ran into him. Blinking, she realized they were in booking.

"Uhm, Sam? Why are we here?"

"Because you were just part of a hostage situation and I was injured by a suspect, which means. . . " Sam said, wiggling his eyebrows, which looked extremely comical with his bandage.

"Paperwork." Andy sighed, seating herself behind a desk. Sam plopped himself down next to her. She glanced at him. "Does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?"

"Nope." Sam said with a smile.

"I'm pretty sure it does."

"You can think what you want, but the more you talk right now, the more of my paperwork you can do for me. Got it?"

Andy laughed, reaching for a stack of papers. "Got it, sir."

From across the room, Theresa watched Sam and Andy seat themselves behind the same desk, completely absorbed in whatever conversation they were having. Andy tipped her head back and let loose a laugh at something Sam had said, and Theresa turned to Noelle, who was seated beside her.

"How long have they been together?" Theresa asked, still watching them.

Noelle sighed melodramatically, leaning back in her chair. "You see, right there is the most tragic part about their whole little thing."

"Tragic?" Theresa's voice was skeptic. She redirected her attention to picking the dried blood from underneath her fingernails. How had that gotten there? She briefly remembered the blood around the little boy's wrists and sighed. She'd have to inquire somewhere about his condition, all she knew was that the paramedics had taken him to Victoria Mercy.

"They're _not _together."

"What?" Theresa shot up in her seat.

Noelle gave a short laugh. "I know, right?"

Theresa looked flabbergasted. "And none of you have done anything about it?"

Noelle looked slightly alarmed. "What do you mean, exactly? I don't think it's such a good idea-"

"You can't just sit on the sidelines when it comes to something like this!"

"Theresa-"

"_Don't _tell me I can't do anything, because I can, Noelle."

Noelle huffed. "Fine. But don't expect me to help you! I'm not gonna get on Sammy's bad side for this one."

"Mmkay." Theresa stood, stretching, eyeing the pair as they worked. Andy leaned over and said something to Sam, who nodded. Together, they stood and walked off, leaving their piles of paperwork unattended. The idea brewing in her head began to come to a boil, and, not thinking twice, Theresa went over to their papers. Shifting through them, Theresa found what she was searching for—Andy's copy of the liability form. She knew from experience that everyone just threw it away anyway, so it wouldn't be missed. Hurrying back to Noelle, papers in hand, Theresa sat back down, satisfied.

"What did you do?" Noelle whisper-yelled. "You can't just go stealing paperwork-"

"I didn't steal it. I borrowed it without asking and the intention of giving it back."

Noelle sighed. "I'm not taking the blame for this one, either." She looked at the paper. "Why did you take Andy's liability release?"

"First reason? Because she wouldn't miss it. Second reason? Because I need it."

"For what?"

Theresa gave Noelle a wicked grin. "I've always been able to copy Sam's handwriting. But Andy's? Nope. I need to learn it." With that, she tapped the last line of the paper. . .the same line Andy had put her signature on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Very sorry for the wait! This chapter is a bit different. . .told from Noelle's POV. Enjoy! **

Noelle had been woken at around 6:00 in the morning by the incessant ringing of her cell phone. The first thought that entered her sleep-clogged mind was something along the lines of "Abu zabah khjuhg." Sleep deprivation did that to you. Noelle had managed to open the phone and, fumbling, pressed it to her ear.

"'Lo?" She had muttered groggily.

"Morning Noelle!" Noelle winced as an overly perky voice penetrated her sleepy mind. "Could I talk you into doing me a huge favor?" As the voice chattered on, Noelle had sat up and peeled the sheets away from her body with a heavy sigh. So much for sleeping in a teeny bit later.

Roughly an hour later, Noelle sat in her car outside a flower shop, wondering how the hell she had gotten there. She was reminded by a series of movements coming from inside, as the teenage owner of the voice that called her that morning leaned over the store's counter, flirting with the guy putting together a beautiful bouquet of tiger lilies. A few minutes later, Theresa exited the store, flouncing down the steps. The lilies' wrappings crinkled as she climbed into the passenger side.

"Was it really necessary to completely suck up to the guy behind the counter?" Noelle asked, turning the key in the ignition.

"Very. Did you notice how much faster the service was?" Noelle rolled her eyes and Theresa laughed. "C'mon, I couldn't make you late for Parade, now, could I?"

"Very thoughtful of you."

"Not that Best would ever get mad at _you_."

"Crossing the line there, sweetheart, crossing the line."

"Fine, fine. I'll shut up."

"Good. Wait, before you do, could you please explain the—well," Noelle took a hand off of the steering wheel and waved it towards the bouquet. "-this?"

Theresa gave her a wickedly mischievous grin. "You'll just have to wait and see. But thanks for reminding me, I almost forgot to sign the card." Theresa tugged the blank card, pulling it loose from the plastic around the lilies. Retrieving a pen from the glove compartment, she wrote a single sentence down in a slightly untidy scrawl that, to Noelle, was identical to Sam's handwriting. Then Theresa produced a pale pink slip of paper from her pocket, the handwriting on it matching that of booking reports done by none other than Andy McNally. Noelle heaved a great sigh.

"Theresa, I'm not even going to try and talk you out of this-"

"Good."

"-but I'm just saying, I don't think this is a good idea. And for future reference, no more calling me at ungodly hours in the morning just so you can go get some flowers."

"Awh, bummer. But there's always Oliver."

Noelle snorted. "I highly doubt Ollie would appreciate you calling him that early."

"Oh, for goodness sake, Noelle. It was six o'clock. That's not that bad."

"Maybe some of us had a lot going on last night." The words slipped out of Noelle's mouth before she could consider them. "Wait, I didn't mean-"

"Are you implying that you were _busy_ last night?" Theresa's smirk was back full-force, her left eyebrow raised slyly.

"Crossing lines!"

"Ah-ha!"

"I never-"

"Ha! It's about time-"

"Forget the lines, you're crossing friggen' _boundaries _now-"

"Oh no I am not! You started it-"

"I did not start this! Theresa, enough!" Despite the order, Noelle was laughing almost as hard as Theresa. "No. That's not what I meant. And now I think you're just doing this to be a pain in the ass." Theresa gave her an impish grin. Noelle shook her head, smiling, and backed into a parking space right outside the Division.

They made their way inside, Noelle going to locker rooms while Theresa split off in another direction. Noelle knew that Theresa really was up to no good—but a note and a bouquet of flowers was all she was using, and, really, how much trouble could that cause? Not much, Noelle decided. Not much.

It was with a much more alert, caffeine-powered mind that Noelle walked into Parade; she had managed to sweet-talk Oliver into getting her a cup of coffee. She leaned up against the far wall, sipping her steamy beverage and relishing the feeling as the slightly bitter taste bit into her tongue. She loved her coffee strong.

"Noelle." A slightly growly voice reached her ears, and Noelle saw Sam walking towards her. He nodded his greeting.

"Sammy," Noelle said, trying to sound upbeat and normal, glancing hurriedly over at Theresa across the room. The girl's eyes were wide as she watched. "You don't sound too great. Have you had your coffee yet?"

Sam shook his head. "Some idiot broke the machine, and I didn't have time to stop on the way to work."

"Late for work?"

"Sorta, I slept in a little later, I had a-"

"-busy night?" Noelle finished for him, raising an eyebrow. She a slight flashback of deja vu to the conversation she had had with Theresa in the car.

Sam glowered. "Not unless you call running to the drug store to get children's meds for your hysterical sister 'busy'."

"What's wrong with your sister?"

"Her kid's sick. Fever, stomach ache, sore throat. You know, the works."

"Ooh, that sucks."

"Coppers of 15," Best walked to the front of the room, giving her a small smile. Noelle struggled to keep down the blush creeping to her cheeks. Really? It was just a smile, she scolded herself. Calm down, girl. From across the room, Theresa winked at her. Noelle rolled her eyes and turned away from her. "I am pleased to announce that for the remainder of the case surrounding James Bradley, Theresa Brandson will be working alongside you." A light smattering of polite applause broke out, and Noelle watched as Andy, who had slipped in around the same time Best had, gave Theresa a smile. "On another note. . ."

Best continued on with the usual formalities, but what caught Noelle's attention was Theresa. After the announcement, she had edged her way closer to the door, and managed to slip out without anyone's notice. Or so Theresa had thought. Noelle sighed and crossed her arms. As amused as she was at the teenager's antics, she still had half a mind to stop her. But then Noelle saw Andy staring at Sam from across the room. . .oh, what the hell. Who was she to stop fate? Noelle knew it was really only a matter of time until the two were caught making out in the interview room. She might as well sit back and just watch the events unfold.

**Please remember to click that lovely button right below! (:**


	7. Chapter 7

**First off I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY! I apologize for the unforgivably long break between these chapters! *goes and hides in corner* This chapter is a little longer to (maybe?) make up for it! **

**On another note, wow! These reviews make me soo happy(: So I've decided to start something new. Every five (5!) reviewers will get a sneak peek (read: first couple paragraphs) of the next chapter! & this will give me the incentive to actually write. So yay! :D**

**Thanks to ForeverEchelon for a partial Boyd-related idea expressed in this chapter(:**

**Also, major shout out to for her ideas and support!(:**

Sam gave a grunting sigh, slamming the door to the men's locker room shut with more force than he originally intended. It had been a long, long shift—especially so, because instead of his usual partner, McNally, he had been assigned to the rough-and-tumble kid of the rookies—none other than Dov Epstein himself. He would make a great cop someday, Sam though rather grudgingly, but until then, the rookie had a thing or two to learn—including keeping his mouth shut.

Sam rubbed his temples, trying to fight off the Dov-inspired headache for just a little longer, until he could get his hands on some Advil. For a man who valued peace and quiet, Dov was like all those kids in a Chuck E. Cheese— Sam cut off the thought the second it entered, the pain in his temples spiking once more. He had had the terror of being in one of those kid-friendly nightmares before, for his nephew's third birthday; he tried to think about it as little as possible.

He worked open the lock on his locker door and started placing his things inside, lost in his own thoughts. His nephew, Logan, was around four now, which meant it had been about four years since Theresa had moved out of Sarah's. Sam wondered how Theresa was coping—he hadn't exactly been able to talk to her personally since their sudden reunion. Absentmindedly, Sam reached to the bottom of the locker to grab his shoes—and was rewarded with a small, stinging pain on his fingertip.

"Ow." The word was more of a mutter as Sam shook the hand with the offending paper cut. A flash of pink caught his eye. "What the—" He stopped short, reaching down to retrieve the paper. It sported his name on the front in what was recognizably Andy's handwriting. It was a very pale pink, almost white; so Andy—just a hint of her pretty, more feminine side, but not so much so that she seemed at all vulnerable.

He slid his finger between the two sides of the folded paper and opened it. "_Sam~ I realized something yesterday, lying on that floor with a gun to my head, and that something was you. Could you meet me outside the Penny after shift? I can't do this any longer." _No sooner had Sam processed the last word, he snatched up his things and, only taking time to carefully fold up the note and place it in his pocket, ran out the door, nearly unhinging it in the process. Finally.

~x~

Andy stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her shoulder leaning against the frame of the window in the interview room. On her one side was Jerry, his body mirroring hers; on her other side was Theresa, who was intently watching the scene in front of her, her fists on her hips. Sighing, Andy turned her attention back to the two people on the other side of the one-way viewing glass.

Detective Donovan Boyd was having an extremely unsuccessful time getting the man on the other side of the table to talk. The suspect, eighteen year-old Vince Malami, was handcuffed and looking up at the furious detective with a mixture of amusement and cockiness. The whole reason the guy was there was because he was accused of working for the same organization as Bradley, keeping secrets and making deals. And so far, he wasn't talking.

"He's taking the wrong approach. Yelling at the guy isn't going to get him anywhere." Andy and Jerry looked up in surprised unison as Theresa spoke. Theresa shrugged and Andy glanced back to the window. Boyd had snarl on his face, the crescendo of his voice occasionally shaking the glass, seeing as Jerry had long turned off the speaker. Andy had a brief flashback to a previous conversation with Sam, and how he had said Boyd and Theresa butted heads whenever forced to work together.

"Well, what do you suggest?" Jerry asked, running a hand through his dark hair. His face portrayed undisguised frustration.

Theresa shrugged again. "Make him mad or something. Beat him at his own game—he's bound to slip up eventually."

Jerry glanced at Andy, then nodded slowly. "Worth a shot." Jerry rapped on the glass twice with his knuckles, the signal to call Boyd back into the other room. At the sound, the other detective looked up, an irritated expression on his face. Scowling, Boyd turned on his heel and left the interview room, taking care to slam the door. A second later, he wrenched open the other.

"What do you want?" Boyd snapped. "I was about to get him to crack."

Theresa gave a derisive snort and Boyd glared at her. Before he could say anything, Jerry intervened and voiced her unspoken opinion.

"Not really. He's not gonna talk unless we try another tactic."

"Which would be. . .? I don't exactly see anyone else volunteering to go in there."

"Try opening your eyes." Theresa cut in, her eyes narrowed. She turned to make for the door, but Boyd extended a hand and grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to face him. Andy bit her lip, but didn't move.

"And what exactly are _you _going to do? The little girl against the big, bad man?" Boyd cocked his head, his tone mocking.

Theresa met his gaze, her blue eyes piercing. "Anything is more than you did."

Boyd growled as she shoved off his hand and spun on her heel, slamming the door harder than he had. Andy stifled a giggle at Boyd's expression, only to have him turn on her.

"Something funny, rookie?"

"No sir." Andy smirked, watching Theresa enter the room. Vince did a double take as Theresa sat down across the table.

"Whoa-a, hey there, Bambi." Vince's voice filtered clearly through the intercom Jerry had turned on. "So you're the backup for Mr. Stick-in-the-mud?" Andy nearly laughed out loud at Boyd's audible snarl at that comment.

"Awfully big words for such a little thing, eh, shrimpy?" Theresa shot back, not even bothering to look up from the papers she was shuffling through. "Says here you're only five foot seven."

Vince's head snapped up. "They're wrong. I'm five foot seven and a _half_."

Theresa looked at him, a smirk playing on her lips. "Ooh, touchy, touchy. Looks like we hit a sore spot."

Vince growled. "Why'd they send you, Barbie? Gonna cute me to death?"

"Cute?" Theresa scoffed. "If we're going to play the name game, you're going have to do better than that."

"Awh, come on. What's a little girl like you going to do to a guy like me?"

"Bust your ass for incrimination to justice by assaulting children and assisting a killer."

Vince blinked. After a moment, he found his voice. "What? You can't come waltzing in here and accuse me of—"

"I just did." Theresa said rather smugly. "And I'll do it again in front of a jury."

Vince's mouth opened and closed like a fish out water. "You wouldn't. There's nothing against me!"

"As you should know, each member of a jury receives a copy of your permanent record, and I'd guess they'll find it _very _interesting—"

"I never did nothing!"

"It says here you're first offense occurred when you were in the sixth grade over a bullying incident. You were picking on some kid and he retaliated with a joke related to your last name—why, what was it, Vince? Lemme guess. . . something related to your mommy and salami? Don't mind if I do, but you've got an awfully nice last name for rhyming."

Vince raised an eyebrow, but Andy could clearly tell Theresa was ruffling his feathers further.

"And then the report says—ohh, this is good, Salami—it says the little kid actually started _beating you up—_"

"He caught me off guard is all!" Vince yelled.

"—and the teacher actually had to rescue you!" Theresa slammed the report back down on the table. "How's that to the start of a flourishing criminal career? You've got a nice little resume here. It certainly got you this far, but to be honest with you, it's not going anywhere past this."

Vince shifted. "Who says? Who says I'm a criminal?"

"Everything. All the evidence we have is against you." Vince's eyes widened at Theresa's lie. Truth was, Andy knew the only reason they brought him in was because of a detailed tip they had received. But Vince didn't know that.

"E-evidence?"

Theresa nodded. "But, hey, if you think hanging with your buds is cool, try chilling in jail." She stood abruptly to go, the legs of her chair clattering.

"Wait." Vince's voice was desperate.

A small smile, unseen by Vince, graced Theresa's face. "Yes?"

"W-what do you have?"

Theresa turned. "We know about the baby, Vince." Her voice was soft, and Vince paled considerably. On the other side of the one-way glass, Andy nodded to herself. The tipper had told them that a man matching Vince's description had placed a bundle in a dumpster, then hurried away. The tipper had gone to investigate and found, wrapped in the blanket, a baby. The autopsy proved that it had been dead for about fifteen minutes to a half hour when found. And it now looked like Theresa had nailed the possible killer.

"B-baby? I don't have no baby—"

"I think you know which baby I mean."

Vince looked around, seemingly making a decision. "Who told you?"

"Anonymous tipper." Theresa had settled herself back in the chair.

Vince didn't look convinced. "You sure, blondie?" Theresa glared. Vince took that as a yes. "You won't understand. You'll never understand."

Theresa shifted. "Try me."

"Look, I appreciate you trying to help me, but you're not going to understand. You're just a kid."

At this, Theresa snorted. "I said, try me."

"But you're just a—"

"Kid?" Theresa stood, and Andy noticed her her shoulders were shaking slightly. "Just a kid? Is that what you were going to say?" Theresa's eyes flashed, and Vince shrunk back in his chair. "I'll have you know this _kid _has done more for this city in the past four years then most officers do in their whole career. This _kid _has actually made a name for herself in this eye-for-an-eye industry. This _kid _has seen horrific things, watched people die, people _she _killed." Theresa leaned towards him, and Vince cringed away from her. "And you try to sit there and tell me I'm _just _a kid? I dare you to do it again, and God so help me, you'll be the next one I pull this gun on."

Andy glanced over at Jerry, who was nodding slowly, a lazy smile on his face. Boyd, on the other hand, was pacing, still silently fuming, watching this whole exchange with a look that could shoot daggers.

Vince looked up at Theresa with eyes wider than usual. "I, uh, think that's okay, blondie, you can keep the gun away." He eyed the lump in her shirt just above her hip.

Theresa's chest was still rising and falling rapidly as she reseated herself. "Do we have an understanding now?"

Vince nodded, his eyes never leaving the bump on her hip. He was silent for a second, then his eyes flickered back to hers. "Have you really, uh, killed people?"

Theresa let out her breath in a rush of air. "Yes."

"How many?"

Theresa licked her lips. "Up to date? Five."

"F-five?" Vince stuttered, looking at her with a new sort of twisted respect. "You just went up to them and went bang?"

Theresa gave a bark of laughter. "If only it were that easy. No, honey, I've been held at gunpoint, part of a hostage situation. . .I've seen the good guys die too." Andy didn't miss the way Theresa swallowed, the way she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Had she really seen fellow officers get shot and killed on the job?

"Now enough talk about me, I wanna talk about _you_." The old glint was back in her eye, Andy mused, Theresa had recovered herself quickly.

"What about me?" Vince asked warily.

"I want to know about that baby. I wanna know about Bradley."

Vince gave an audible swallow. "There's not much to—"

"I don't care. I want to know everything. And you leave just one little thing out, I'll make sure you're in jail for the rest of your fricking life."

~x~

Roughly an hour and a half later, Theresa exited the interview room, a smug smile on her face. Clutched in her hands were every detail of Vince's story, from beginning to end. Andy couldn't help but smile as she skipped perkily back into the room, shoving the papers into Jerry's hands, grinning.

"Good enough for you?"

Jerry nodded, smiling. "Very. Thank you." He turned on his heel and left the room, heading in the direction of his office. Boyd glared at Theresa and followed Jerry out. Theresa gave him a sickly sweet smile.

As soon as the door swung shut, Theresa closed her eyes and slumped against the wall, sliding down until she was seated on the floor.

"You okay?" Andy asked cautiously.

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Just tired." Theresa didn't open her eyes.

Andy glanced at her, then, sighing, lowered herself onto the floor next to her. "Hey," she said softly. "You did really well."

Theresa opened one eye. "Thanks." She gave Andy a small smile.

Suddenly, with a bang, the door burst open and Boyd strode in, retrieving a forgotten paper from the table, and turned and left just as quickly as he had come, not even acknowledging the two on the floor. Theresa gave something akin to a growl.

"What is it with the two of you? Sam was saying you didn't get along, but other than that—"

"We don't get along? Biggest understatement of the year." Theresa gave a hollow laugh.

"But why?"

"Why? Oh, he just doesn't like the fact that someone have his age is doing twice the amount he is, or something like that."

"Then why—"

"Am I rude to him? I'm not just gonna sit there and take it. I hate being pushed around."

Andy looked up at the ceiling. "So he's really just jealous."

"Pretty much. And you know what makes it even worse?"

"What?"

"I think he's hot."

"Wait—what?" Andy asked incredulously. "You think he's—"

"Hot, yeah, I know. It's pathetic. But other than that, he's a total ass."

"Does Sam know that you think that?"

Theresa snorted. "Do you think Sam knows?"

Andy shook her head. "He'd have kittens."

Theresa laughed. "Exactly." Her phone buzzed and Theresa tugged it out of her pocket, sighed, then tapped out a reply. Glancing at the digital clock, she hefted herself to her feet. "Shift's over. Locker room?"

Andy nodded, and Theresa extended a hand to her. Andy clasped it, and Theresa tugged her into a standing position. Andy jerked to her feet, surprised at the teenager's strength and how easily she had lifted her.

"Are you _sure _you're okay?"

"Yes."

~x~

The locker room was full and sweaty, steam streaming out of the showers, laughter clogging the air as the majority of the female officers dressed and readied to go home. Today, however, the only variable from the norm was the small crowd gathered around Andy's locker. Closest to the locker were Traci and Gail.

"What's going on?" The group parted to let Andy through, Theresa following closely.

"Andy, you're never going to believe—"

"Wait until you see—"

"Look!" Traci thrust a bundle into Andy's arms. Andy gasped, holding it out. A bouquet of delicate tiger lilies were framed by matching tissue paper, a thin sheet of plastic protecting them.

"Looks like you have a secret admirer." Gail said, grudgingly admiring the beautiful flowers.

"Or a not-so-secret one." Traci grinned, holding up a small white card.

Andy squealed and snatched it away from her. "Tell me you didn't read it!"

Traci held up her palms. "I didn't!"

"Good." Andy glanced at the card, where a single sentence was scrawled—_Meet me at the Penny after shift? _

"Oh, my word—is that Swarek's—" Gail started, but was silenced by Traci clapping one of her hands over her mouth.

"After shift? That's now! Go!"

"But I haven't showered, or changed—"

"Fine! We'll help. Hop in the shower—Theresa, can you grab the makeup from my bag? It's in the front pocket—"

Theresa obliged as everyone scrambled, no one noticing the small, mysterious smile etched on her face.


	8. Chapter 8

**And here is chapter eight! Please enjoy & remember to review, especially if you are planning on favoriting/story alerting(: **

No one knew why it was called the Black Penny. But then again, no one really cared. It was a place where you could get drunk and dance like an idiot, so why question it?

Andy placed a hand on the heavy wooden back door, which was the main entrance for the cops from 15. She wasn't ready for this—but she was sure that she probably wouldn't ever be, so why prolong the wait? With a sudden surge of courage, Andy pushed. The door swung open surprisingly easily, the low music and clatter of glasses and cutlery from within inviting. Andy stepped into the room, which was rather dark, lit only by dim lights on the bar and above the individual tables. Searching the Penny was completed with a mere flick of the eyes, and Andy immediately located Sam at the bar, a bottle in hand, his face slightly vacant, as if deep in thought. Jerry was seated to his right.

Andy made her way to the stool next him rather cautiously, eyeing him slightly suspiciously. Sure, the handwriting on the card was identical to his, but what if it wasn't? What if it was someone's idea of a sick joke? Even if it was, was it okay for her to invite herself to have a drink with him? Andy shook off the odd feelings. Of course it was. He was just her ex-training officer. They had had drinks before, and gone out to lunch while on patrol, and all that. No big difference. But in the back of her mind, Andy's tiger lilies kept nagging.

"Hi." The word was soft as it wiggled its way out of her mouth, floating across the small distance between them.

Sam jumped slightly as it reached him, his eyes refocusing. "Hey." He glanced at the bottle in his hand. "What anything to drink?"

"Gin and tonic is fine." It wasn't that expensive, and if this was going to be relatively painful, it'd take the edge off—until she sobered up, that is. She'd deal with that as it came.

Sam rapped his knuckles on the wooden counter of the bar and tender came, taking Andy's order. Andy could feel Sam watching her, but avoided his gaze until her drink came. She brought the glass to her lips, loving the way the liquid courage burned her throat. She placed the cup back on the counter, slamming it accidentally.

"So. How was shift?"

"McNally, I'm not having a pointless conversation with you that is undoubtedly going to go in circles and get us nowhere."

"Fine." Damn his determination to get to the point. Every fiber of her being wanted to skirt the topic as long as possible.

"Should I leave?" The voice came from Sam's other side.

"Jerry, have I ever told you that you have an uncanny ability to ruin _everything_?"

"Sorry, Sammy."

"Don't call me Sammy."

"Sorry, Sammy."

"We're leaving, Jerry." Turning to Andy, Sam leaned lower, his lips just brushing her ear. "Do you mind going outside?"

Andy swallowed and forced herself to shake her head. Abandoning her partially finished drink on the bar, Andy stood and followed Sam out. He cast an arm around her waist, letting it rest on her hips. She felt herself grow hyper-aware of his fingertips brushing her side and ignored the obvious stares of the others in the pub.

All too soon, the night air was kissing her cheeks, the parking lot lit only by street lamps and passing cars' headlights. Sam leaned casually against the side of the building, his hands resting in his pockets.

"So," he said, studying her carefully. "I guess I should thank you for the note."

Andy's brow crinkled. "Note? What note?"

Sam's eyes jerked upwards. "You mean it wasn't you?"

"What wasn't me?"

Sam's gaze bored into hers. "You mean to say," he said slowly. "that you're denying writing me a note and slipping it into my locker? Or that you didn't write one at all?"

"Why would I write you a note? We're not in fourth grade, Sam. I—" Andy halted at the look on Sam's face. "I don't know what you're talking about." Her voice was quiet.

"Of course you don't." Sam ran his hand through his hair. "Well, if you didn't write it, why are you here?"

"You sent me flowers."

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "I. . .gave you. . .flowers?"

"Didn't you?"

"Nope."

"But, there was—I mean, in my locker, Traci found—a bouquet. There was a bouquet. Of tiger lilies."

"Of course there was." His tone was questionable.

"What is _that_supposed to mean?" Andy asked, more snarl in her voice that she intended.

"Don't you think that it's kind of odd that you _didn't_write me a note and I _didn't_give you flowers?"

Andy was still confused.

"Oh, come on, Andy. If you want to talk to me, you don't have to lie and invent some stupid story." He was smiling, obviously joking. But Andy didn't care.

"Are you kidding me?" Her voice was rather high-pitched and screechy. "I see too much of you everyday without you being a stuck-up asshole!" Sam's smirk had disappeared. "Wait, I take that back—you're always an asshole."

"Really? Well, you're not always that bright and sunny either, McNally." Sam growled, his anger taking a control of his tongue before he could think "And it's bad enough you need to stoop to this level because you need the _attention_." His words burned, both her and his own mouth.

"The attention? To hell with that! What I wouldn't give for people just to _leave__me__alone__—_"

"I'd love to be able to leave you alone, but you seem intent on pulling stunts like this and making my life miserable—"

"If that's what you want, then go ask for another rookie, because, Sam, I am so sick of all of this. Either do something about it or just leave me the hell alone."

Sam was speechless. "Andy, no other rookie—"

"Don't call me _Andy_, Sam, you never do—"

"I'm your TO, I can do what I want." Sam's eyes were almost black, his teeth gritted.

Andy threw her hands in the air. "Oh, I am just _so_sorry, Officer Swarek—is there _anything_I can do to make it up to you?" Andy snorted. "You don't own me, Sam." With that, she stalked away, striding to her car, throwing open the door. In a matter of seconds, she was gone, the only reminder of her presence being the squeal of tires that bounced off of the surrounding buildings.

Sam snarled. What was he doing? What had he been thinking? Idiot, idiot, idiot. Why didn't you just go with it? He growled and his fist connected with the wall, which only resulted in a throbbing hand. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Hissing under his breath, Sam yanked open the door to the Penny, throwing it wide and stomping back in. Storming to an empty stool, Sam hit the bar with his good hand.

"What can I get you, sir?" The barkeep's tone was relatively polite.

"Anything. Just make sure it's strong." Within a minute, three shot glasses had been set before him. Sam downed the first two without a problem, but paused at the third. He'd drink it, for sure, but he needed a second of coherent thought before he lost his mind entirely.

"Sammy?"

Dammit. "Hey, Ollie." The other man settled in the stool beside him.

"Buddy, I'm just gonna cut straight to the chase. Yelling at them never works."

Sam shot him a look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Oliver snorted. "Well, everyone on this side of the bar does."

Sam looked up. "What?"

"Yelling isn't exactly _quiet_, Sam."

"Very funny." Sam raised the third shot to his lips.

"I wouldn't drink that if I was driving myself home."

"Too bad I'm not you." Sam downed the shot, then laughed. "Wait, did I just say 'too bad'? I meant 'thank God'."

Oliver looked unamused. "I'm serious."

"Okay." Sam went to call the bartender over again, but Oliver grabbed his hand. "Ollie—"

"Don't _whine_at me, Sam."

"I'm not whining."

"Sure. Whatever. In any case, what do you plan on doing?"

"Drinking, once you stop _holding__my__hand_."

Oliver rolled his eyes and released the offending limb. "You know what I mean, Sammy."

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

"My word you're thick. Andy. Andy McNally."

"I don't care."

"You and I both know that's the biggest lie of the century."

"Alright, fine. I care. But she's pissed right now, and to tell you the truth, so am I—"

"You accused her of being an attention-seeking—"

"You don't have to remind me."

"Well, maybe you should make things right."

"Just like you did with Zoey after she kicked you out of the house? Remember that? When you went to that strip club?"

"We don't talk about that."

"Oops. You mean just like we don't talk about McNally?"

"You're the one that brings her up half the time!"

"Lies."

"Truth."

Sam sighed, polishing off yet another shot. "I don't want to talk about this right now, Ollie."

Oliver shrugged. "Fine. You don't have to. But tomorrow's shift is going to be killer—for both of you."

"You don't have to remind me!"

"Just thought I'd make it clear, especially because you're working on the same case."

"Oliver?"

"Yeah?"

"Please. Just shut up."

**Aaaaand there we have it. I am very sorry if any character seems a little OC, I haven't watched in episode in forever, & I'm thinking I should probably do that. (Yay, one more thing for me to do. -_- But it's RB, so that makes everything better!)**

**REVIEW. PLEASE. THEY ARE LIKE, MY DRUGS. (Don't believe for a second that I'm joking, either.) Remember that every fifth reviewer gets a snippet of the next chapter before the full one is posted for everyone else!**

**ALSO: I am very open to suggestions! If you have any ideas/criticisms/things you want to see, please let me know in your review. I already have a rough idea how this is going to end, but new thoughts are always great! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Huge apologies that this hasn't been updated in what could very well be forever. This will be finished soon, pinky promise. **

**Oh, and I owe you yet another apology—I reread some of my last chapters and wasn't all that happy with myself, so please forgive me for not writing up to my usual par. I'll try to fix that from now on and give you a story that's actually worth reading. Thank you so much! (:**

As difficult as she had originally thought avoiding Sam would be, Andy was doing a pretty darn good job of it. And, glancing at him from a safe distance across the bullpen, as long as they weren't partnered together for today, she'd be okay. She could make it. Maybe.

"Good morning." A voice that was definitely not Best's filtered through Andy's line of thought. In his spot stood Theresa, dressed in normal civilian clothing and dark circles under her eyes. Andy noted the Kevlar peeking out between her cardigan and the strap of her loose shirt. "Best asked me to speak with you this morning for a couple of reasons, but the main one being we need to discuss the Bradley case."

"But we have Bradley. What more is there to do?" Chris's voice came from the front row.

"I've been working this case with my division for a couple of months now, and we have more than a little evidence that Bradley had an accomplice. And it really doesn't matter if we have Bradley or not—as long as he's out there, the partner is going to continue working."

A murmuring broke out between the officers. "What exactly are they doing?" This question came from Traci.

"Abducting children to sell for different purposes, but mostly to black-market type dealers that can get them into adoption agencies for a profit. It's not a new practice." Theresa ran a hand through her hair. "But it's crucial we catch him."

Theresa turned to the bulletin board behind her, placing a finger on a rough sketch of the facial features of a man. "The guy we're looking for resembles this sketch. In exchange for a couple years off of his sentence, Mr. Malami is being cooperative and has given us information. We are looking for a young man roughly between eighteen and twenty-three. He's of Italian descent and has dark hair. If provoked, he will become violent and most likely go down shooting. It's imperative we try to make this as quick and painless as possible, but you must be prepared for self-defense at all times." Theresa looked at the group of people in front of her. "Any questions? No? Good."

Moving over to a map pinned up on the cork board, Theresa stuck three pins into separate locations. "We'll be splitting into three groups, and each group will go to a different location. We have narrowed down possible hideouts to these three places with the help of Mr. Malami and what we could gather from Bradley himself." Theresa turned back to the officers seated before her. "We don't want to waste anymore time, so please get yourselves suited up. We leave in twenty minutes."

~x~

A half an hour later, Andy found herself driving a squad car, Theresa seated in the passenger seat. There was a crinkle of paper as Theresa smoothed out the map in her lap.

"What's the address of the warehouse again?"

"It's on Second Avenue, but don't worry about it. Just follow Sam."

Right. Follow Sam. Andy watched the taillights of the cop car in front of her round a corner, and she followed suit. With her luck, she had been placed in a group with him. She really should have seen this coming. At least Traci was there, in Sam's car—and Theresa, of course. A few minutes later, Andy slowed to a stop at the side of the road behind the other car. She cut the engine and stepped out, walking over to Traci's side.

"Alright. Here's the plan. Nash and McNally, you take the ground floor. Brandson and I will take the upstairs. Clear your level and meet up at the front entrance in fifteen minutes. Find anything and you radio in. Sound good?" Sam was staring intensely at the low building in front of them, not meeting any of their eyes.

"Yes." The word echoed slightly and Andy walked to the front door, her feet crunching on the gravel pathway. She slipped inside, aware of three bodies following her through, two splitting off and slinking up the closest stairwell. It was eerily dark, despite the sunlight outside. Andy noted that the windows were boarded over.

"Traci?"

"It's kinda creepy in here."

"Let's just get this over with, okay?"

Traci shivered. "Sounds like a good idea." The room split evenly in front of them. "I'll take the left. Keep your radio close, okay?"

"Definitely." Andy watched her friend walk cautiously away, her gun drawn and flashlight fitted snugly beneath it. Andy mimicked Traci's movements, clicking her flashlight on and starting forward. Andy became hyper-aware of the sound of her own breathing, and she willed her hand not to shake. If she found anything, she wanted to be sure she'd have a good shot. She poked around a pile of crates, not finding anything. She had begun walking back to the entrance when a shuffling noise reached her.

Andy froze. "Traci?" Her voice was soft, and Andy willed it not to tremble. There was no response. Andy took another tentative step forward, and immediately, a heart-wrenching scream pierced the air that hung so thickly around her. As Andy broke into a run, there was no doubt in her mind that the voice belonged to Theresa—and she was certain that she was screaming Sam's name.

**This will be updated super duper soon. Promise. Hate, like, love? Review please. Thanks so much(:**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hope you all can forgive me for the mini cliffhanger. Here's the next chapter. (:**

Andy couldn't will herself to run any faster. With a speed her old running coach at the academy would have been amazed by, Andy sprinted back to the entrance and up the cement staircase that resided next to the door, spurred on by the desperate scream that had echoed just mere heartbeats before, the sudden silence looming hauntingly overhead. As Andy reached the top of the stairs, her hands, slick with sweat, gripped her gun even tighter. Heart clenched and braced for the worst, Andy peered around the doorway into the room that stretched out before her. Nothing. Andy let out the breath she was holding. There was no sign of struggle, nothing.

Andy stepped slowly into the room, placing each foot on the cement floor as if afraid to trigger a bomb. Where were they? Abandoning her post at the wall, Andy darted forward and hid behind a pile of wooden boxes. A sudden rasping noise from the corner drew Andy's attention, and she swung around, aiming her gun at the corner.

Instead of a child abductor and killer, Andy saw what appeared to be a cage. A hand thrust itself out from within, accompanied by a small voice. "Please," it begged. "Please help me." There was a little girl in the cage. Andy's heart broke at the tone of the tiny voice, but she had only made it a mere stride before she was forced to halt again.

"Take one step closer and I'll kill you both." Andy whirled around, her gun swinging around in front of her to face the owner of the voice. In front of her stood a tall man, his black hair hanging in his eyes. His lanky body and voice betrayed his young age, but the lines on his face and hands seemed to belong to someone much older. His gun was aimed carefully at her face.

"No, you won't, you disgusting excuse for a human being." Theresa's voice wavered, but her gun hand was strong and steady, the barrel trained on the man in front of her. Blood trickled down her temple from a nasty looking bump, but other than that, she seemed unharmed.

"Looks like your little nap didn't last all that long." The man sneered, his initial surprise at Theresa's reappearance replaced by a cockiness not unlike Vince Malami's. He gestured towards a dark lump in the corner. "Your partner doesn't look as well off."

Andy stifled a gasp as the mound shifted slightly, the shadows throwing just enough light onto it that Andy could make out Sam's face. Blood flowed freely from a wound on his head, and his leg was twisted backwards at a sickeningly odd angle. The unsub smirked. "Too bad your friend showed up before I could do any real damage. It's a shame you can't get a good price for adults."

"You sick bastard—" Theresa snarled, taking a step forward.

"Ah ah, one more movement from either of you and she dies." He now had his gun pointed at the cage in the corner of the room, completely at ease with the fact two police officers had their guns trained on him. "There's plenty more where she came from."

A rumble emanated from Theresa's throat, but she didn't move. A miniature whimper came from the cage.

For what seemed like hours, Andy and Theresa stood there. Andy's mind raced, desperately trying to calculate a way out of the stalemate, but she was unable to figure out anyway they could all make it out alive. And as much as she would like to, she couldn't flat out shoot the man in front of her—technically, she wasn't being threatened by him, so she couldn't kill him out of self-defense. In order to bring his attention to her, Andy would have to move, risking her own life, as well as the little girl's. And if she failed, Sam was as good as dead, too. But there was no other way. Arms aching, Andy glanced over at Theresa, who met her gaze steadily. Andy knew immediately by the grim line of Theresa's mouth that she knew what had to be done. 'Just make sure you get him', Andy mouthed, and before Theresa had any time to object, Andy leaped to the side.

"Hey!" Her voice was loud and clear, but the second the man turned, Andy knew. Later, she would contemplate whether she had known from the blazing look on his face or the wild glint in his eye, but either way, she immediately knew something was off. And that was why it was only with a mild sort of surprise Andy watched, horrified, as he flipped around and pulled the trigger.

Not at Andy, mind you. Nor the little girl. No, he fired three shots at Theresa.

Which is why Andy had no trouble retaliating, listening to her own shots ring through the building, watching the man crumple to a heap on the floor.

In what felt like slow motion, Andy turned to Theresa. She was standing shakily, her mouth opened in a surprised O. Andy stifled a scream as Theresa fell, her body arcing oh-so gracefully, like that of a dancer, falling lithely to the floor. Her eyelids fluttered shut as Andy fell to her side, her hands scrabbling at Theresa's chest, where two clean bullet holes had torn through her shirt.

"T-Theresa, stay with me. Stay with me!" Andy tore Theresa's shirt open, frantically tearing off her Kevlar vest. The bullets were lodged firmly in the vest, and Andy watched with a horrified fascination as the blood from the broken vessels under her skin pooled to the surface.

"Andy—Andy!" Andy vaguely felt Traci come to her side. "Andy, I called for backup as soon as I heard the screams. The paramedics are on their way—Andy, focus. Keep pressure on her head." Traci guided Andy's hands over the cut on Theresa's forehead, which had reopened as she fell.

"But—Traci, her chest—she got shot, Traci—"

"Shh, Andy, I know. There's nothing we can do right now. Please, Andy, focus. I need to go see Sam." Sam? Sam! Sam was still over there—my word, how could she be so careless? So forgetful? Andy felt Traci leave her side, and immediately felt a rush of cold air in her absence.

"Traci—"

"Keep pressure on her head, Andy. The medics will be here any second." Right on cue, the muffled sound of sirens started up, growing louder and clearer with every passing moment. Andy felt herself applying a gentle pressure to Theresa's head wound.

"Traci—Sam. How's Sam?"

Traci's voice was soft. "Andy, he'll be okay. But I think his leg's broken." There was a pause. "Theresa?"

"I-I don't know." Andy glanced down at the unconscious girl. The bleeding from her head wound had ceased, but as Andy looked down, her heart nearly stopped. Trickling out of the corner of her mouth was more blood—and, in a blur of blue and red lights, Andy had no idea what to do.

**Alright, one more chapter left. If you have ANYTHING you wanna see happen in the last chapter, shoot me a message. Please review! I will love you forever3**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters that you recognize. **

**Apologies will never make up for my unforgivable hiatus, but I hope you enjoy the last installment of this fic. (: **

Andy woke to a blindingly bright light. Blinking, she rolled over to her side, and was rewarded with a tiny jab of pain in her upper arm. She rolled up the sleeve of a hospital gown she didn't remember putting on and found the smallest scab she'd ever seen—a shot, she realized. But why would she need a shot—

It came back to her in a rush that left her breathless; a fuzzy reminder of what had happened: three single shots, two bullet holes, one little girl in a crate. Andy struggled to sit up, her mind oddly foggy and her throat encased in a choking amount of panic. She thrashed against the bed sheets, only relaxing once she was free, her chest still heaving. Taking a deep breath and turning her head, she saw that very same little girl lying in a hospital bed next to her. As quickly as she could manage, Andy got to her feet, padding over to the girl's side. The girl had dark olive skin and thick, glossy black hair that contrasted sharply with her pillow, making her have some sort of dark, twisted halo. An IV drip was inserted into one hand, and a machine next to the bed monitored her heart rate with a steady beep. Her eyelids fluttered as if she were dreaming, and Andy trailed her fingertips across her cheek.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered.

"Excuse me, Miss McNally, but what exactly are you doing out of bed?" A nurse stood in the doorway, a clipboard in one hand.

"I'm sorry, I—" Andy glanced down at the little girl. "I had to see for myself that she was okay."

The nurse gave a sympathetic nod. "Maybe you'd best sit down again." Andy obeyed, perching on the edge of her bed. "Now, tell me—what can you remember?"

"Remember? I—" As if the nurse's words held the key to unlocking the memories, it all came rushing back. Everything. She watched Theresa fall, she saw the heap that was Sam groan, she watched the bullet from her own gun enter the skull of the killer in front of her. Andy gasped, her hands flying to her head, grasping clumps of her own hair. "N-no—no!" She remembered the ambulance, a voice screaming their names—was it Andy? She didn't remember yelling. She recalled the flashing lights before a sharp pinch in her shoulder, and then everything had gone black. She threw a panicky look at the nurse in front of her. "Why am I here? Why aren't I with them? I need to know that they're okay—"

"Miss McNally, I need you to calm down. Miss McNally!" Andy had leaped to her feet, shoving past the nurse in question in an attempt to escape. The nurse grabbed her firmly. "Miss McNally, you were sedated. You will be allowed to see Mr. Swarek after you are cleared, but until then, you must stay here." Just Sam? What about Theresa? What if she was—

"Miss McNally, I can let you go as soon as I'm finished." Andy complied huffily, letting the nurse check her over and take her vitals. After a few lengthy minutes, she was finished.

"You may go—

Andy was out the door before the agitated nurse could finish her sentence. Andy ran down the hall, mentally ticking off every name that the hospital doors read. Davis, Johnson, Kieran, Meadows—these names meant nothing to her. She had almost decided to give up when the name on the last door caught her eye. Swarek.

Andy nearly kicked down the door upon entering, but slowed at the dark confines of the room.

"Sam?" Her voice was a hushed whisper. A stuttering snore from a chair in the corner made her jump, and Andy stifled a smile when she identified the sleeping figure: Oliver.

Cautiously making her way to bed, Andy placed a hand on the side of the mattress. "Sam?" The slumbering body in the bed emitted a sigh and shifted position. She allowed herself a small smile. Despite of the IV and monitor that were attached to him, his face was peaceful and relaxed. The sudden remorse she felt for their previous fight was overwhelming, and she had to resist the urge to shake him awake and make him understand how sorry she was—and just how much she loved him.

~x~

"Andy?" Her name probed her out of her sleepy state. The moment she recognized the owner of the voice, she shot straight up.

"Sam?" She hurried out of the seat she had taken next to Oliver. "Sam, you're awake." She was unable to disguise the relief in her voice. He cracked a smile, wincing only slightly as his skin tugged on the freshly applied bandage on his facial wound.

"Andy—"

"Sam, I'm so sorry. For everything. I'm sorry I yelled, I'm sorry I left like that—"

"And I'm sorry I accused you of lying and—and everything." His expression was serious. "Andy, I—"

"I can't lose you, Sam." She blurted, the words coming out on their own accord. "Especially not like this—and I just want you to know, if anything like this ever happens again, I love you."

The silence was terrible. Her eyes widened as she realized what she had just said, and she tried to cover it up. "Sam—" But suddenly his arms had reached up and grabbed her, pulling her down onto him. His lips were soft and steady, and for a moment she was frozen. And all of a sudden, as if all her senses had come back in a rush, he was the only thing she could sense, and the feel of his hands was electrifying. Before she knew what she was doing, she was kissing him back, and she was melting at his touch—

"Should I leave?" The voice came from the forgotten corner of the room. A deep, rumbling growl emanated from Sam's chest as he pulled away, and she involuntarily whimpered at the absence of his lips.

"Oliver—"

"You know what? Before you can start cussing me to hell and back, I think I'm just going to leave." A moment later, the door clicked shut. Sam stayed silent, and Andy internally cursed herself. What was she thinking? He was regretting it already—

"Andy." Sam's voice was quiet. "I didn't send you the flowers, but I'll give you a different bouquet everyday for a year if I can make up for it."

Andy's voice shook slightly. "You don't need to do that."

"But what if I want to? What if that's how much you mean to me?" It took only a heartbeat for their lips to meet again, and they didn't resurface for quite a long time after that.

~x~

"Sam."

"Mmm?"

"Where's Theresa?"

He fell silent, and Andy's heart thudded against her ribs.

"Sam—"

"I don't know, Andy. Last time I heard, she was in surgery."

"So she was still alive when the ambulance got there." Andy allowed herself a breathy sigh of relief. She knew that matters like that could change in a heartbeat—literally—but the very fact that Theresa had still been breathing on her own was enough to partially relieve her fears.

Sam nodded and Andy saw his chest fall significantly as he exhaled. He was worried, no doubt; Theresa was the combination of little sister and adopted daughter that he had grown to love.

"I think I might go ask around for her—do you mind if I leave you?" Andy watched Sam's gaze drift to their linked hands, their fingers tangled together and his thumb steadily stroking the back of her hand.

As if he was just registering her question, Sam jumped slightly and slipped his hand out from hers. "Yes, of course, find out if she's okay." He gave her arm a half-hearted push, and Andy planted a tiny kiss on his forehead before leaving his room and making her way to the nurse's station.

It was empty save for one slightly clueless receptionist, and after thanking her for her time—when really, all the older lady had done was waste Andy's—Andy set off down the hall, the soles of her shoes making squeaking noises that seemed to echo off of the oddly empty halls.

After a rather lengthy amount of time, she finally stumbled across a nurse helping an old man into his wheelchair. Though her face was youthful, her hair was sprinkled with salt and pepper and she had smile lines around her mouth.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi, yes, I was just wondering if you know anything about my friend—" Andy brushed her palms over the front of the jeans Traci had brought for her.

"I'm afraid I don't know much about other patients, I'm Mr. Caldwell's full-time caretaker." The nurse straightened and gave Andy a tired smile.

"Oh, well in that case, do you know where I could find someone that could help me?" Andy let out a nervous laugh. "There doesn't seem to anyone around."

"Well, they're changing shifts right now. There should be a few more people in a couple of minutes." The nurse gave Andy another weary smile.

"Thank you." Andy turned and hurried off to wait by the nurse's station. True to the nurse's words, there were several more scrub-clad people drifting through the hall. Many were already occupied with patients, and Andy was sure they probably knew just as much as Mr. Caldwell's nurse had—a tall man in a white coat shoved past her, jarring Andy out of her train of thought.

"Oh, goodness, miss, I'm very sorry—"

"Oh no, it's fine—" The doctor held out a hand to steady her, and Andy caught a glimpse of his name tag: Dr. Chadwick, Supervising Manager. A jolt shot through Andy as she realized that if anyone knew about Theresa, it would be him.

"If you'll beg my pardon, miss, I've got a patient I've got to see to—"

"Please, sir, I need to find my friend—Theresa, she's a cop, please—" Andy was practically holding onto the front of his shirt with one hand, trying to keep him from running off, the other hand digging around in her jeans pocket for her badge.

At the sound of Theresa's name and the sight of the badge, Dr. Chadwick recoiled, looking over Andy as if seeing her with new eyes. "You're a colleague of Ms. Brandson?"

"Yes, doctor, please, is she alright?" Fear and bile rose in Andy's throat at the expression on the doctor's face. No, she couldn't be—

Dr. Chadwick hesitated, then gestured for Andy to follow him. "She's just gotten out of surgery, and she's still rather unstable." The doctor held open a door to one of the unmarked patients' rooms, beckoning for her to go first. "You can only stay for a bit, I'm sorry."

Dr. Chadwick bustled past her, but Andy stayed rooted to the spot. There, lying in the hospital bed, was a young woman with a wreath of golden hair, ghastly pale skin, and a huge, multi-colored bruise on her temple. An unsteady beeping filled the room, emitted from one of the many machines that were hooked to the frail-looking girl, tubes and syringes snaking under and over the thin sheet covering her body.

The girl sighed, her chest shuddering up and down, and Andy refused to believe that this—this _helpless _girl was Theresa, the kick-ass teenager that could handle just about anything.

"W-when will she wake up?"

Dr. Chadwick turned from his adjusting of the IV drip and took in the devastated look on Andy's face. "We currently have her in an induced coma—she flatlined twice during surgery, and her body currently can't handle the stress of being conscious."

"Sh-she flatlined _twice_?" Andy gripped the supports on the side of Theresa's bed.

The doctor nodded gravely. "From blood loss. As you can see, we were able to bring her back and successfully remove the bullets, but it'll be quite some time before she's on her feet again."

"How bad were the shots?" Andy willed her voice not to shake, refusing to look at Theresa's expressionless face below her, and instead focused on the IV port on her pale hand, cradling it in her own. Andy shivered at how cold the limp limb was.

"Well, she took them both to the chest—one shattered her breastbone, but the other hit a little lower." Dr. Chadwick gestured to the places of impact on his own body. "It nicked an artery, which we could've patched up without a problem, but this one had already been reinforced with a stint—"

"From when she got shot before." Andy mused to herself.

"—and caused internal bleeding. We replaced the stint and repaired the artery, but she's going to have to be extremely careful until it's completely healed."

"But you think she'll be okay?"

Dr. Chadwick nodded. "If all goes as planned, she should pull through. She's young and strong." He leaned over her heart monitor and pressed a few buttons. "As long as we keep an eye on her blood pressure and make sure her body is accepting the transfusion, we should be able to wake her tomorrow morning."

Andy nodded and bit her lip, squeezing Theresa's hand as tightly as she dared. Despite the doctor's prognosis, Andy couldn't help but think that Theresa still looked bloodless, as cold and lifeless as a corpse.

~x~

It had been roughly thirty-six hours since Andy had stepped foot in that awful warehouse. Thirty-six hours since her life had flashed before her eyes, thirty-six pieces of time that had yawned like years in front of her, and more than thirty-six chances that the lives of those closest to her could've been yanked from her grasp.

"You know, staring her down won't make her wake up." Sam's voice broke through her thoughts and Andy shifted in her chair, refocusing on him.

Sam had been cleared last night, and though he was free to go home, he had spent the night in the hospital with Andy and Theresa, he and Andy sleeping in the chairs beside Theresa's bed. He had a mild concussion and a broken leg, forcing him to rely on the assistance of crutches. He'd be stuck on desk duty for the next six weeks, so convincing him to take a couple days off of work to stay with Theresa hadn't been a problem.

The threat of paperwork and the fact that he hadn't realized until now that Andy had been hospitalized had kept him glued to her side for the past day, despite her protests. Even though the doctor had explained to him that the only reason they had put Andy in a room was to make sure she woke up from the sedatives in a secure environment and to double check that her bloodstream was clear of the drug after she was conscious, Sam had taken it upon himself to be Andy's personal protection detail. Which, really, wasn't any different than normal—except the fact that now, it wasn't uncommon for him to hold her hand, or place a lingering hand around her waist.

Not that she was complaining.

"She's been off the sedatives for an hour now—shouldn't she be waking up soon?" Andy tried to keep the frustration out of her voice.

Sam just shrugged. "Patience."

Technically, Theresa could've been awake last night—Andy and Sam had been awoken around midnight by one of the machines beeping crazily, followed by a small stampede caused by a troupe of doctors and nurses. Though Theresa hadn't shown any signs of life, Dr. Chadwick had explained that the alarm had been set off by a spike in brain activity, and, if Theresa hadn't been sedated, she most likely would've woken on her own. Which, the doctor said, would've been very, very bad—because of her injuries and the trauma induced on her heart and brain by the paddles when she was revived, regaining consciousness could have put her into traumatic shock or given her a severe panic attack—or both.

Taking her off of the drugs when her body was prepared to awaken, however, could still trigger the same results, though the risk was smaller.

"_Not_ one of my virtues." Andy mumbled.

"Yeah, well, that's just something we're going to have to work on, McNally—" Sam was interrupted by a tiny cough.

Andy nearly got whiplash turning to face Theresa. For the first time in last two days, her blue eyes were wide, her mouth open in a surprised 'O'. For a moment, all three of them were frozen, and then Theresa gasped, sucking air in through her mouth, causing her body to arc. Andy leaped to her bedside, gripping Theresa's shaking hand in her own. Sam seized his crutches, hobbling over as fast as they would allow as Theresa began to tremble, her wounded chest rising and falling with each heaving breath. Her huge eyes were filled with could only be hysteria, words choking in her throat and preventing her from screaming.

"Andy, she's having a panic attack—"

Andy turned and ran out of the room, her eyes darting wildly down the hallway—there, standing near the nurse's station, was Dr. Chadwick. Andy had just opened her mouth to yell when he turned and saw the expression on her face—he bolted into the room, rushing to Theresa's side.

"Ms. Brandson, I need you take deep breaths, in and out." Dr. Chadwick tried to steady her, but Theresa began to thrash like a fish out of water, strangling herself on air. Dr. Chadwick turned to the nurse that had rushed in behind him. "She needs to be sedated again, she's going to distress her wounds. One dose should do it."

Faster than Andy had though possible, the nurse filled a syringe with the correct amount of medication and jabbed it into Theresa's arm—the effect was immediate, and Theresa's eyes rolled back into her head, making Andy feel sick to her stomach. Theresa's movements ceased, and Dr. Chadwick quickly started punching buttons on the heart rate monitor as the nurse began to change the bloody bandages on the teenager's chest, for they had been reopened with her twisting and turning.

Dr. Chadwick ran his hand through his dark, cropped hair. "She'll awaken in roughly ten minutes. Since she won't be in as deep of a sleep this time, the change shouldn't be as severe."

Andy let out her breath, suddenly aware she had been holding it this whole time. "So she'll wake up normally?"

"That's the plan. I think I'll stick around, make sure this doesn't happen again." He busied himself with another monitor and Andy slumped down next to Sam, who had sat down earlier.

"That was—"

"—awful, I know." Sam sounded pained, and Andy gave him a sympathetic look. She couldn't imagine being that close to someone and seeing them in a state of panic like that. She knew that if Sam ever had to go through that—Andy stifled a shudder and refocused on Theresa's now-peaceful form.

"She's all cleaned up, and here's another syringe just in case." The nurse handed Dr. Chadwick the shot and squirted some disinfectant onto her palms. "If you need anything else, just let me know."

"Thank you." Dr. Chadwick dismissed her and turned to Sam and Andy. "Her brain activity is picking up again, so she should be awake any minute."

Right on cue, Theresa's eyelashes fluttered, a soft moan escaping her lips. "Wh-where am I—"

"The hospital, Ms. Brandson. You were shot." Dr. Chadwick's voice was even and measured; comforting.

"The little girl, is she okay?" Theresa struggled to sit up and Andy hurried to her side, Sam close behind.

"You saved her." Andy said softly, brushing a piece of hair out of Theresa's face.

"Thank God." Theresa relaxed visibly, then winced as her actions pulled on her bandages. "How long have I been here?"

"A day and a night." Sam said, then added dryly, "A very long day and a night."

Theresa rolled her eyes and gently tugged her own hospital down, revealing the white bandages. After a moment, she let out a laugh that made her flinch with pain. "Again, huh?"

"You were very fortunate, Ms. Brandson." Dr. Chadwick said, tapping on her IV drip. "I have another patient I have to see to—if you need anything, just press the call button." He left with a smile.

"And what you'd get away with, Sammy?" Theresa asked. "A broken leg?"

"With a concussion and a killer headache, yeah." Sam shifted his weight, readjusting his crutches.

Andy absentmindedly brushed her fingers against his temple. "Do you want me to get more painkillers for you?" She pulled her hand back, but Sam caught it in his own, gently bringing it to his lips.

They both realized they had an audience of one at the same moment, freezing in place—Theresa was just looking at them smugly, shaking her head slightly. "So you finally got together, huh?"

"We're not—"

"It's not—"

"Mhmm." Theresa cringed as she pushed herself into an upright position. "You two aren't together, and I didn't get shot. Right."

Andy could feel the hot flush creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks. "Did you honestly think that—"

"—you guys were going to be a couple? Are you kidding me? The whole world could see it. Except, of course, you two. That's why I sent you those flowers, Andy."

"Wait a second—what?" Sam interjected. "You sent her the flowers?"

Theresa snorted. "Well you obviously weren't going to."

"And you gave me the note, didn't you?"

"Of course." Theresa looked unperturbed, a half-smile playing at her lips.

"Do you realize that—that we actually _fought _about that?"

Theresa shrugged. "You're together now though, right? Doesn't matter."

"Theresa Grace—" Sam began, his voice a growl.

Theresa was saved by, surprise of surprises, Noelle.

"Is my baby in there? Y'all can get outta my way—" The door flew open and Noelle raced in, stopping dead at the sight of Theresa in her hospital bed. "Oh, darling, they told us we weren't allowed to see you until you woke up, and I was so worried—" Noelle pulled Theresa into a bone-crushing hug, and Theresa gave a half-smile, half-grimace of pain.

Noelle was followed in by Best, and Andy couldn't help but think how odd it was to see him without his sergeant's uniform. "Swarek, McNally, you're both doing well?"

"Better, sir." Sam crutched his way over to shake Best's hand. "Can't wait to get back."

Best raised an eyebrow. "Do I detect sarcasm, Officer Swarek?"

Andy smiled as Sam replied. "No, sir."

"That's good, because we'll need all the help we can get in preparing for a new position that Division One has been extremely generous in filling." Best smiled at Theresa, who looked confused. "If she agrees, as soon as Officer Brandson is well, she will be joining our force."

Theresa's jaw dropped. "Are you serious? They're letting me transfer to Fifteen?"

"That's great!" Noelle beamed.

"If you'd willing to discuss the details, we can finalize the paperwork for when you return." Best sat down in an unoccupied chair, and Theresa nodded furiously. Turning to Andy and Sam, Best said, "And if you two are going to be returning to work anytime soon, I must insist you go home. You've both done more than I could ask of you, and for that, I thank you."

Andy nodded. "Thank you." She gave Theresa a careful hug. "We'll see you later, okay?"

Theresa nodded and hugged Sam, too. "We'll be back tomorrow."

Sam and Andy left the hospital room, leaving Theresa talking with Best about her transfer and Noelle still holding the younger girl's hand. Looking back over his shoulder, Sam said, "Do you feel like we've just been dismissed?"

Andy shrugged. "I don't really mind—I just want to go home and take a hot shower."

Sam grinned. "I could help you with that."

Andy punched him in the arm. "Not with that leg, you're not." They reached the elevator and the doors slid open, Sam pushing the down button in the interior.

"Can you believe she sent you those flowers?" He shook his head.

"She's a wild one."

"Yeah, but she's smart—kinda wise beyond her years, you know?"

"Yeah," Andy nodded. "Wise beyond her years."


End file.
